Caught in a Net
by thatgiraffegirl
Summary: The Katniss Rebellion failed. Two whole districts wiped out by bombs. The Hunger Games are stronger than ever. It's the 99th Hunger Games. 22 new tributes are sent to the Capitol. The pain and suffering is easy to see. But can hope and love be found in the arena as well? Charlotte aka Charlie Overbreeze doubts it.


_When the Katniss Rebellion failed, the whole of Panem went into a sort of controlled chaos. Two whole districts were wiped out by bombs, others were put under stricter control due to the suspicions of more uprisings, and the economy took a nose dive for a few years. Eventually, the Capitol managed to get everything in some kind of order again. Peacekeepers were recruited in greater numbers to suppress any form of disruption, and Gloria Sylvester was crowned the new president. Her first act as president was to declare the reinstatement of the Hunger Games. _

Reaping Day. It was on everyone's mind at the table as we silently ate a late breakfast. As if by some psychic connection, all three of us swallowed our last bite of food, and put down our utensils. The butter dish was scraped clean of that week's ration, the small pot of fish stew only had dregs left, and the glasses all had a white film of milk dripping down the empty sides. The only thing left was a single roll of bread, tinted green with seaweed and molded into the shape of Mother's fish pan. There was a pause, and the tension felt like it could be sliced with my fork. Then, suddenly, Mother leaped into action, as she always does when she doesn't know how else to deal with a situation. She started running the sink to fill a small tub to start washing the dishes, and Leon stood up to help her. I also tried to bring a plate into the kitchen, but Leon took it away from me.

"Go get ready," he told me, sounding so much like our late father, "The reaping will start soon." I looked into his warm hazel eyes that were identical to mine, as if searching for an excuse to stay. Not only to help with the dishes, but to avoid the reaping. But Leon's returning gaze gave me no answers, and I obediently turned away to the bathroom to take a bath.

Once I was scrubbed down so hard my skin was pink and tingling, I dried myself off and drained the tub, and went to the connected bedroom that all three of us shared. My reaping outfit was already laid out on the bed, consisting of a navy blue sundress with small red birds and white daisies printed on it. Mother had altered it a bit since last year, taking off the cup sleeves, and adding a fashionable lace collar, and my pair of fawn-brown flats with the gold beads on the toe were resting next to the dress. I looked at the outfit, thinking to myself miserably that if it had not been meant for Reaping Day, I would have liked it a lot more, and probably would have worn it on other days as well. With a sigh, I dropped my towel and started getting dressed. Just as I was buttoning the last button at the back of my neck, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I said softly, and Leon opened the door and came in to stand behind me in the mirror. Without a word, he picked up the brush from the bed, and became to untangle my white-blond hair. I noticed that he had also gotten dressed in his reaping clothes, even though he had gone through his last reaping the previous year. This would be my second to last reaping. Although it was heartening to know that I only had one more year of this dreadful torture, it was also extremely nerve-wracking knowing that I now had seven slips of paper with my name on them thrown into the reaping ball. Both Leon and I had been forced to take one tesserae each a few years ago, when our father passed away and there was more money going out than coming into our house. Leon seemed to notice my distress in the mirror as he finished brushing my long blond hair and started braiding it.

"There are a lot of other names in the ball," he said to me. I noticed that he didn't say, "You won't be picked". He was only giving me the facts, that I was unlikely to be chosen. But we both knew there was still a chance.

"If I get picked, don't bring Mother to the Justice Building," I told him. He slowly finished the rope braid, a traditional braid in District 4 where rope was a vital part of our economy, and slung it over my left shoulder before turning me to face him.

"We don't know you're going to get picked yet," he said.

"If I do, I don't want her to see me like that," I explained.

"Fine," Leon agreed, "Come on, she's waiting at the front door for us." We exited the room, and walked into the front room of the house. I noticed that the last roll of bread had been left on the dining table, but I didn't comment about it as we went out the front door together.

Once we neared the town square, Leon dragged me to the side before we could get lost in the crowds.

"Mother and I will be in the back of the audience, waiting for you," he whispered to me. I nodded deftly, and glanced past his head at the dizzying view of the stage where a podium was being set up. I was snapped out of my mild panic when Leon patted my cheek, forcing my attention back onto his face.

"Hey now," he said gently, "No matter what happens, we'll fight through it." I nodded, and pulled him into a tight embrace before we separated to go to opposite sides of the town square. I went to stand next to the other seventeen year olds, and struggled to find a familiar face. I had never really made a lot of friends, and most of the other teenagers I recognized didn't give me a second glance. Eventually, I clenched my fists, and turned my head toward the stage. It was better for me to have less attachments anyways. A sudden hush fell over the crowd as the large screen on the stage lit up, and President Sylvester's face appeared. As she made her annual speech about the Hunger Games, and the reasons they were necessary, I paid more attention to her appearance. As always, I was surprised at how plain she looked, considering she lived in the Capitol. Her honey blond hair was pulled back in some kind of frizzy bun, but her face was almost void of any kind of extravagance, and she wore a plain white blouse. The one time her hand showed up in the video, I saw the flash of her blood red nails.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor," she concluded, and the screen whited out. There was a polite applause from the audience, and as it died out, Dee Precious climbed the steps of the stage and took his place as escort behind the podium. His gold-glitter hair seemed to defy gravity as it shimmered in the sun, and even from a distance, I could see the ridiculous peacock feathers he had glued to his eyelashes. His suit was designed with District 4's fishing culture in mind, and was colored in hues of blues and greens, almost looking like liquid. Gold sequins were scattered across it, more concentrated at his cuffs, and the gold buttons were shaped like fish. He looked utterly ridiculous.

Even though our district still had a reasonable connection with the Capitol, ever since the Katniss Rebellion, all special treatment had been cut off. No longer were we a career district, and our citizens held hidden animosity toward the Capitol. As such, Dee Precious was always forced to draw names from the balls each year. Behind Dee, our two mentors stood next to each other, looking as different as night and day. Lorena Swift had won the 89th Hunger Games, during a year that the only weapons in the arena were bricks, and the arena itself was a desert with only one oasis. Lorena was known for being brutal and merciless, and she was more feared than respected when she came back to District 4. As she stood on the stage, she looked as if she was ready to win the Hunger Games again herself.

Next to her, Bantee Seaside made his presence a lot less obvious. When he had been reaped at age 13 for the 93rd Hunger Games, he had been one of the smallest tributes, mostly skin and bones. But he had shown his skills with knives during the games, taking out nearly half of the other tributes with sneak attacks with throwing knives. Before the Hunger Games, Bantee had been Leon's best friend, since they were the same age. But when he came back, he had changed drastically. He had always been a quiet person, but now he seemed to observe everything from behind a glass, as if he couldn't interact with anything or anyone. Leon and him had stopped talking years ago, and barely anyone saw Bantee around District 4 anymore, except for Reaping Day, when he was required to come out. Onstage now, he seemed to be searching the crowd, observing with a critical eye as always.

"Well!" Dee Precious exclaimed, "You are an enthusiastic crowd, aren't you?" No one laughed with him, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the reaping of the 99th Hunger Games!" he called out, "Time certainly does fly by! Now, I know some of you will be disappointed, but this year, and this year only, a new rule has been put in place. Your mentors will choose the tributes of District 4!" No one seemed too distraught by this announcement, and I even heard some sighs of relief. _That's why there are no reaping balls on the stage this year_, I thought to myself.

"That being said," Dee continued, "If any of you would like to be tribute, do make it known to the mentors as they descend offstage and search for their tribute." As he said this, Lorena walked off the stage, toward the groups of eligible teenagers. She went straight to the boys' section, and started evaluating them like cattle, separating them as she inspected their health and muscle mass. The whole district held its breath as she went along, nearly ten minutes, before she finally chose a large 16 year old who looked like he had the body of a fully grown young man in his prime.

"What is your name, sir?" Dee asked once Lorena had brought the boy back up to the stage.

"Nicholas Spear," the boy said confidently, and I noticed that he, like Lorena, looked like he thought he could enter the arena and win by assumption. If I didn't know better, I would have said Nicholas and Lorena seemed to be related.

"Bantee, if you would be a gentleman and choose the girl tribute?" Dee requested. Bantee paused and blinked at Dee, as if processing some complex thought, then snapped out of it to step down into the crowd, and started toward the girls. I felt my breath quicken, and my heart pounded as Bantee purposefully strode toward me, and I barely registered his grasp on my wrist. The walk up to the stage seemed like a dream, and I think I stumbled on the steps, but Bantee caught me in his surprisingly firm hold, and we finally did make it up to Dee.

"And why don't you say your name," Dee told me brightly, "Look straight into that camera there, and say your name." I turned to where he pointed at the camera, and I knew that behind me, my face was blown up on the screen. I hoped my expression didn't give away how I couldn't feel my own body as I forced my tongue to work.

"Charlotte Overbreeze," I heard myself say, but it felt as if someone else had said it for me.

"Fabulous!" Dee said, "And there you have it! Let's give Nicholas and Charlotte a round of applause to send them off! And let the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" It was then that I blacked out.


End file.
